Miss Bower’s answer came immediately.
“Oh, dear me, no! Nothing of the kind. You can take my word for it absolutely.
The old lady wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
The reply came with such positive assurance that there seemed nothing more to be said. Nevertheless Poirot did interpolate one mild inquiry.
“Does Miss Van Schuyler suffer at all from deafness?”
“As a matter of fact she does, M. Poirot. Not so that you’d notice it anyway, not ffyou were speaking to her, I mean. But quite often she doesn’t hear you come into a room. Things like that.”
“Do you think she would have heard any one moving about in Mrs, Doyle’s cabin which is next door to her own?”
“Oh, I shouldn’t think so–not for a minute. You see, the bunk is the other side of the cabin, not even against the partition wall. No, I don’t think she would have heard anything.” “Thank you, Miss Bowers.” Race said: “Perhaps you will now go back to the dining-saloon and wait with the others?” He opened the door for her and watched her go down the staircase and enter the saloon. Then he shut the door and came back to the table. Poirot had picked up the pearls.
“Well,” said Race grimly. “That reaction came pretty quickly. That’s a very cool-headed and astute young woman–perfecfiy capable of holding out on us still further if she thinks it suits her book. What about Miss Van Schuyler now? I don’t think we can eliminate her from the possible suspects. You know, she might have committed murder to get hold of those jewels. We can’t take the nurse’s word for it. She’s all out to do the best for the family.” Poirot nodded in agreement. He was very busy with the pearls running them through his fingers, holding them up to his eyes.
He said: “We may take it, I think, that part of the old lady’s story to us was true. She did look out of her cabin and she did see Rosalie Otterbourne. But I don’t think she heard anything or any one in Linnet Doyle’s cabin. I think she was just peering out from her cabin preparatory to slipping along and purloining the pearls,” “The Otterbourne girl was there, then?” “Yes. Throwing her mother’s secret cache of drink overboard.” Colonel Rhce shook his head sympathetically. “So that’s it! Tough on a young ‘un.” “Yes, her life has not been very gay, cette pauvre-petite Rosalie.” “Well, I’m glad that’s been cleared up. She didn’t see or hear anything?” “I asked her that. She responded–after a lapse of quite twenty seconds–that she saw nobody.” “Oh?” Race looked alert.
“Yes, it is suggestive, that.” Race said slowly: “If Linnet Doyle was shot round about ten minutes past one or indeed any time after the boat had quieted down–it has seemed amazing to me that no one heard the shot. I grant you that a little pistol like that wouldn’t make much noise, but all the same the boat would be deadly quiet and any noise, even a gentle pop, should have been heard. But I begin to understand better now. The cabin on the forward side of hers was unoccupied-since her husband was in Dr. Bessner’s cabin. The one aft was occupied by the Van Schuyler woman who was deaf. That leaves only–” He paused and looked expectantly at Poirot who nodded.
“The cabin next to hers on the other side of the boat. In other words–Pennington.
We always seem to come back to Pennington.” “We will come back to him presently with the kid gloves removed! Ah, yes, I am promising myself that pleasure.” “In the meantime we’d better get on with our search of the boat. The pearls still make a convenient excuse even though they have been returned–but Miss Bowers is not likely to advertise that fact.” “Ah, these pearls.” Poirot held them up against the light once more. He stuck out his tongue and licked them–he even gingerly tried one of them between his teeth. Then, with a sigh, he threw them down on the table.
“Here are more complications, my friend,” he said. “I am ‘not an expert on precious stones, but I have had a good deal to do with them in my time and I am fairly certain of what I say. These pearls are only a clever imitation.”